Hermione's Ordeal
by And Your Pointe Is
Summary: Ron and Hermione deal with their guilt over Sirius's death.


I was scared. But then, after all I've been through, who can blame me? The affair at the ministry was so tragic, not even Professor Trelawney could have seen it coming. And I still have nightmares about it. Nightmares that burn through any pleasant dreams I may once have had. They consume the very essence that is me, spinning me through a web of darkness no one should have to face alone. I wake almost every night to sob silently under the bed covers, terrified of what I would find if I dared to again close my eyes.  
  
It was one such night, after I had been released from the infirmary and Madame Pomfrey's watchful eye, when I decided. To keep the nightmares at bay, I would simply not sleep. Looking back now, I see that the nightmares had instilled such a horror within me that my usual sensibility could not argue. There were, after all, more useful things that I could do than sleep, my mind reasoned. The NEWTs were only two years away after all, and I had to start preparing immediately or I feared that I wouldn't be ready in time. Yes, that had been my greatest fear. My childish self had believed that the only thing I had to fear was a test. But I was no child now. The ordeal at the ministry had seen to it that we all grew up. Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna, every one of us.  
  
And so, I stopped sleeping. It made me more snappish then I had ever been before, my usually brilliant mind dulled by lack of sleep. Harry and Ron worried, I know. A scary thing, as Harry was still consumed by his own grief over Sirius's death, and Ron never failed to appear ignorant of anyone else's welfare. But I could see the concern in their eyes. "Hermione," Ron had said during breakfast after eyeing my no doubt blood- shot and bruise-ringed eyes, "Are you feeling alright?" "I'm perfectly fine Ron. Peachy-keen. In fact, I've never been better!" I said half-hysterically to a frightened Ron and Harry. "Hermione," Harry had intoned, peering at me closely "You don't look fine to us. You haven't really been eating properly, have you? Why not have some toast or something, anything."  
  
It was odd that this was happening. Harry and Ron were always the ones who needed to be prodded, who needed to be cared for. I was always independent, strong enough for all of us. Yet here they were, giving me advice on how to eat properly. "Harry, please. I'm perfectly fine! It's not as if I've ever needed your help before, and I certainly don't need it now!" I screeched at him, arms flailing. Harry and Ron gave each other that look, the one guys always seem to share. This one was grave, as if my words, meant to comfort them, had only confirmed their worst fears. "Hermione," Ron said more gently then I've ever heard him say anything before, "We're only trying to help." "Trying to help!" I raged back at them, slamming my books shut. "I don't need your help! I'm doing perfectly fine on my own, Ron, and I'll thank you to keep your intrusively inquisitive nose out of my business!" I ran out of the Great Hall, the looks of many students staring curiously at my back as I raced up the stairs to the common room.  
  
I ran up to the girls' dormitory and collapsed on my bed, shaking with sobs that racked my body. I cried for an interminable time that night, my bed hangings closed shut so that my roommates, Lavender and Parvati, wouldn't come and bother me about silly things that seemed so important to them, such as make-up, boys, and whatever gossip they could get their greedy little paws on. Didn't they know how unimportant those things were in life, didn't they care that there was grief, and poverty, and death, and hunger, and war, and numerous other horrible issues to deal with in the world? Their ignorance, the ignorance of most at this school fails to amaze me. Don't they realize? No, I concluded from the mindless chatter that escaped through my bed hangings, they did not. It was well past midnight when I decided to get up.  
  
The atmosphere of the room was suffocating me, and I couldn't stand to be in there any longer. I pushed open my bed hangings and padded to the door. I pulled the door open and walked as silently as I could down the stairs to the common room. I didn't know what I had hoped to accomplish. I thought that I might study a bit perhaps, or spend what was left of the morning before classes in a grief-stricken reverie, wallowing in my own sorrow. But whatever my intent, it was never to come to pass.  
  
I saw Ron there, sitting in the old red couch by the fire, gazing contemplatively into its flames. His face reflected such a weariness, such an intense sorrow that I almost made a move towards him to comfort him. He was alone in the common room, and the last person I wanted to talk to at the moment, I reminded myself. For he was one I truly cared for, my feelings extending far beyond the role of a mere friend. I had an inkling that he felt the same way. I knew that under his gaze, I would crumble. I would break-down, drop my guards, and let my façade of strength fade.  
And there was nothing I didn't want to do more than apparate out of the common room if it meant that I wouldn't have to fall victim to that intent gaze. Curse the fact that one couldn't apparate without proper license, in fact, even one with such a license could not apparate at all upon Hogwarts grounds, I recalled from my reading of Hogwarts, A History.  
I did the last thing I could possibly think of to do, and I desperately tried to retreat before he saw me. Just at that moment, he looked up, straight into my eyes. I tore them away from his penetrating gaze, and bit my lip to keep from crying. Ron just looked at me for a moment, seemingly scrutinizing me, summing up the situation. "I'll leave if you don't want me here." He said simply, his eyes following my every move, every fidget. "Ron," I said, my voice catching, my lip trembling as I felt silent tears pour down my face. He didn't have to hear me say anything else to know that I needed his comfort more than anything now. He swiftly walked over to where I was standing and led me to the couch. "Oh, Ron!" I sobbed into his shoulder as he embraced me tightly in a warm hold, awkwardly patting my hair.  
  
"It'll be alright, Hermione, I promise." He said. And that was all I really needed to hear before everything came pouring out of me. I told him of my sorrow over Sirius's death, and how I blamed myself. "I was no help to anyone during our..." I paused here, searching for the right word. "...incident at the Ministry. I was nothing but a bothering nuisance! If it hadn't been for me being so stupid as to half kill myself, Harry and Neville might have never had to waste any time carrying me around, and could have focused their thoughts upon the situation at hand, instead of worrying about me! I should have been fighting, Ron, I should have been helping. Instead all that I brought upon them was a near-death experience!" I wailed. "Hermione!" Ron said commandingly. "Y-yes, Ron?" Ron looked me straight in the eyes. "Don't you think for one second that you were the cause of Sirius's death, or anything else that happened. You were the cleverest one there! And don't forget that I screwed-up. I acted like a bloody git and got strangled by a bloody brain, for god's sake! You caused much less damage then I did!" I contemplated his words for a moment. "I suppose we all contributed, then." I said shakily.  
"Yes, Hermione, we did. And we all worry about the future; we all know what could happen." Ron stared dazedly off into space for a second, before snapping back to his tirade. "But that doesn't mean that we worry ourselves sick over it, Hermione." I looked down in shame at his words. He tilted my chin up then, to get a better look at me. "Promise me that you'll start taking care of yourself, Hermione. Get some sleep." He eyed me critically, taking note of my skinniness and unusually pale complexion. "And there is such a thing called eating, Hermione. Maybe you've read about it in one of your books?" I laughed then, albeit a weak, croaking one, but it was, indeed, almost discernable as a laugh.  
  
And then I remembered my reason for my sleeplessness.  
"Ron." "Yes, Hermione?" "I can't." "What can't you do Hermione?" "I can't ever sleep again."  
His eyebrows rose at this, and he eyed me with a glint of something that could almost be considered amusement, had his face not been so grave.  
  
"It's...." I trailed off for a moment, but decided to press on. "It's these horrible nightmares I get Ron." I trembled. "I'm actually afraid of sleep." I admitted with embarrassment. "Hermione," Ron said with a lop-sided smile, strangely sympathetic, "It's okay. Everyone gets nightmares. If you ever have another one, just come straight to me, and I'll sort things out." "Oh, Ron!" I said flinging myself on him in a hug as his ears flushed with embarrassment. I felt truly relieved at having finally told someone. And who better to tell then Ron? Then my face started to turn red as I realized within what a close proximity I was to him. I felt exactly how good hugging him made me feel. I released my tight hold on him and sat, bashful, by the fire. We had an awkward moment then, eyeing each other nervously. "Well," I started "Maybe I can take you up on that offer now. I really haven't gotten anything resembling sleep for days." Ron nodded as I began to settle myself upon the couch. "Ron?" I said, turning to face him. "Yes?" he inquired. "Thanks." I said simply, feeling my cheeks burn. I hoped he didn't see that, or see that my hands were trembling. "Hermione," he said, leaning in, dangerously close to my lips. "You're welcome." And then he leaned in, and we both participated in our first real, full-on-the-mouth kiss. Needless to say, I slept soundly that night in Ron's arms. Oddly enough, I've never again been plagued with nightmares since then, although I still come to Ron for kisses. 


End file.
